


Burning Question

by lrs002



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, meta human Len
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 21:03:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14387082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lrs002/pseuds/lrs002
Summary: Age isn't just a number for Metahumans.





	Burning Question

Barry rubbed at the number on the side of his ribcage as he sat on the poolside chair trying to get a steady tan unsure of why it was itching. It hadn't burned so much as the first night he had received it nine years ago on his eighteenth birthday, his soulmate's age tattooed to his side. He reached for the bottle of sun lotion only to have it slip out of his hands rolling under a chair a few feet over.

He adjusts his top before he moves to his knees getting ready to stand when a figure out of the corner of his eyes stops covering him with his shadow. Barry realizes it's a man standing by his bottle of lotion as he sets down his towel. He tries not to stare at the buzz cut and wicked curve of his mouth as he reaches down picking it up as his eyes look him over appreciatively.

"Is this yours?" he asks striding over to his, him towel long forgotten as their eyes meet, their faces more than a few inches apart as he is still on his knees and he stands at full height.

His tongue darts out to lick the middle of his upper lip before he speaks, "Yeah, sorry, slippery fingers," Barry replies wiggling his fingers at him.

Len knows he's staring; he can't seem to bring himself to stop knowing he's not usually this helpful but his heart in his chest keeps pounding. The number on his chest itching like it only had once before in his life, the last night he spent in his father’s house before escaping through the woods. He blinks away the memory turning his attentions back to the beautiful blonde before him with the emerald eyes.

He uncaps the lotion as he pushes himself one step closer to him, his eyes smoldering, "Burning?" he inquires with feign casual tone that he's certain him sees through.

His head tilts in interest, "Come again?" the boy before him answers with a question that's as littered with innuendo as his earlier one.

Len smirks down at his, his fingers itching to trace his lips, "Did you need to apply some more?" he queries squeezing the bottle so the liquid forms a quarter size circle on his other palm.

He looks hesitant as he watches, his answer is tentative as well but his eyes seem to sizzle and spark, "I –yes," he replies coyly.

His lips purse attractively, Barry thinks as he struggles not to drool down on the pavement, "Fantastic," he says coming around his chair his hands coming down on his shoulders.

He massages the lotion into his skin making his bite his lip to keep from moaning, "Just here?" he asks quietly next to his ear making his breath hitch as his hands slide lower down his shoulder blades.

His breaths grew ragged as his deftly fingers ran over his mark soothing it, "Yeah, that's perfect," he sighs, finally enjoying his vacation, "My sides too," he says needlessly.

Len laughs quietly as he falls into a sitting position on top of his luscious legs so he follows him down nudging his arms forward to touch his stomach. He hated to admit Mick was right, he needed to have fun on this trip too and this was certainly enjoyable. By the sounds the boy was making it was mutual, then he felt the slight bump on his skin just over his ribcage, his eyes darting to the spot.

"Hmm, that's funny," he murmured, his words rumbling deep in his chest as his finger brushed over it once more realizing exactly what it was.

"How's that?" the boy mumbled out sounding half-gone still as Len took his hands off of his body sitting at the edge of his seat waiting for his head to turn.

"I'm 45," he offers hoping he'll get his drift and fess up to the mark he has in such a precarious place on his body as he clenches his fists wanting to touch it again.

Barry feels his hands glide away from his body making goosebumps appear as he registers what he has just admitted. forty-five, he said he was forty-five, his eyes blink and he realizes he's seen his mark. A blush rushes his cheeks, he forgot all about it as he was touching his, would he think it was a funny coincidence?

"Oh, my tattoo," he asserts covering it with his hand 

He makes a non-comital noise, "What's it stand for?" he asks as if he's humoring his, Barry huffs feeling defensive all of a sudden.

He wriggles his nose as if it's a bad memory, "Uh, just something I got stamped on me a few years ago." Barry tells him and it's not really a lie.

Len blows air out of his nose, his eyes intent on his face looking to catch his in a lie, any lie but he hasn't found one yet. Well, except the one about his mark being a tattoo, he was a little Meta, he was made from the explosion just like him. But how would he go about proving it without scaring him off? He smiles.

"Huh," he pauses, his fingers brushing up his arm in a non-threatening way feeling his shiver under his touch, "And how old are you?"

His answer is typical, "That's not a very nice question to ask someone," he replies, and honestly Len hadn't expected more from him than that. He was feisty and he was impressed.

"I'm not very nice," he retorts swiftly as he turns in his seat looking at him dead on, 

He squints, and by gods he finds his fascinating, "You know, I'm getting that," his possible soulmate rejoinders lifting his leg getting ready to step away from him.

Evidently he sees he's angered him because his arm reaches out and his hand grazes his as he pushes against his chest unknowingly almost grazing his tattoo.

"I'm a stranger," he appeals to the boy, his eyes huge as he blinks innocently back at his, "You'll never have to see again if you answer wrong."

Barry's lips are a thin line as he considers him, he was obviously bonkers. That or he had already hit the free bar at the end of the pool but he didn't smell any alcohol on him. This was one other possibility but Barry didn't even want to think about that notion.

"How can my age be wrong?" he asks him curiously, somewhere in his mind knowing he has sealed his fate as he smiles widely and somehow knowingly as well.

He seems to weigh his words before answers his directly, "Because you and I both know that's a Meta's soulmate mark, is not a random number," he murmurs.

Barry chokes, "You're a Meta?" he cries looking around the pool in shock, why did it have to be the third possibility. It was his freaking vacation. Not another metahuman convention.

Klaus laughs seeing the war in his eyes as he struggles with the idea that he's just met another under-realm being like himself. He finds himself thinking that even if he isn't his soulmate he'd enjoy his by his side, fight for his even to be this. The odd thought grounds him reminding him there’s still a conversation to be had.

"Louder, Sweetheart," he stammers between chuckles, "I don't think the life-guard heard you," noticing the hostile look that he sends his way straight after.

He tries to stop snickering, he truly does but he finds he can't until he crosses his arms and says to him; "Fine, I'm twenty-six," then his amusement is at a new low.

With his curiosity piqued, he leans in until his breath tickles his cheeks and asks his, "And did your mark stop burning when I touched it?"

Barry frowns, the mood shifting once again unsure of where this conversation is going and if he's okay with where it might end. If he's prepared for where it might lead for that matter. He lifts his chin up taking a deep breath his hands falling down and his towel falling away exposing his neatly written thirty-one.

"Well, yeah but that was the sun lotions fault," he answers him utterly thunderstruck by his question, his anger dissolving.

He shakes his head once, "Really? Because my 26 still burns," he explains unbuttoning his shirt to show the printed number is over his chest.

"You're joking?" he claims his head dipping lower their noses brushing as he takes in the number over his chest, the number being that age of his soulmate, his age.

"Have a look for yourself," he whispers without need knowing he's seen it, that he believes him.

"That's my handwriting," he tells him breathlessly as the tips of his nails graze the mark, the bite of his nail making him shudder.

"And this is mine," he sighs as his fingers brush over his ribs.

"I'm Barry," he introduces himself as he sits back up realizing how strange it must be for people watching them in such a public place.

"Len," he murmurs amusement alight in his eyes as he catches his blush, "Did you want to get out of here?"

**Author's Note:**

> I have a tumblr now. Come find me at Snow-Rosie.


End file.
